


Of Blind Dates and Violets

by imkerfuffled



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, rated for brief language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imkerfuffled/pseuds/imkerfuffled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy finally lets Colleen try to set her up on a blind date. Somehow, it appears to be going even worse than she expected... until a cute waitress comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Blind Dates and Violets

**Author's Note:**

> You've heard of ship denial, right? It's that feeling where you can read a really cute fic, or see a really cute gifset or headcanon, and you still think, like a mantra in your head, "I don't ship it. I don't ship it. I don't ship it." In extreme cases, you can even actively search out fics/gifsets/headcanons for the ship and still deny you ship it. Well, imagine, if you will, a young girl casually perusing tumblr when she comes across an AU prompt about bad dates and waiters. "That would make a great Cartinelli fic," she thinks, "But I don't ship it."  
> "You know what, I'm gonna write that fic," she thinks, "But I don't ship it."  
> "They'd be kind of cute together," she thinks, "But I still don't ship it."
> 
> In other words, I am an idiot.
> 
>  
> 
> (I learned a while ago that violets were associated with vintage New York lesbians, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to use that.)

_Crikey O’Reilly._

_What is he saying?_

_Something about work._

_Where did he say his job was again?_

_Oh yes. He drives a milk truck. Because that’s so fascinating._

_Why did I agree to this in the first place?_

_Colleen. Right. Spinsters and shoes._

_And blind dates._

 

Let it be known that Peggy Carter did not agree to this willingly. In fact, she’d been against it from the get go, but Colleen had insisted. Apparently, Peggy was _lonely,_ and _tense,_ and she would be _happier_ with a boyfriend to keep her occupied. Because that was just what she needed: more men in her life.

But Colleen only said it because she was worried about Peggy and wanted her to be happy, and Peggy wanted Colleen to be happy too, so when Colleen decided to set her up with some friend of a friend of someone from work, Peggy let her.

In short, it was all Colleen’s fault that Peggy found herself in a diner booth that smelled like bad nacho cheese and grease, with her loose fist the only thing keeping her chin from smacking the sticky table, sitting across from the most boring human being imaginable.

Colleen said the man had a sense of humor. She said he was nice, progressive, smart. She said he had an “electric personality,” whatever that meant.

She lied.

Kenneth Richardson could put an insomniac to sleep with his droning. The only thing electric about him were the diner lights reflected in his glasses.

Actually, the lights were rather fascinating. They flickered twice, twice again, and then three times before repeating. The cycle took approximately… eight seconds to complete.

Oh wait. Date. Peggy caught her knuckles slipping up her cheek, scrunching her right eye closed, and she snapped her head up before Kenneth could notice.

He kept talking. Endlessly. Going on and on and on about his bloody milk truck.

_Criminey, does he ever. Shut. Up?_

_Wow his glasses are shiny._

Peggy found it hard to believe she’d only endured twenty minutes of this torture. The clock had to be lying. It was the only possible explanation.

_I am never going on a blind date again. Give me Nazis, give me Hydra, give me the open battlefield, anything but this. Please. If there is a God in heaven, give me a way out of this that won’t make me look like an a--_

“You all done with that?”

If Peggy was asked to describe an angel right then, it would have curly blond hair, a short blue dress, and a matching hat. Her savior, a bubbly waitress who had introduced herself as Angie when they sat down, waved her pen and notebook at the half-empty plates on the table.

“Oh, er, yes actually,” Peggy said, while at the same time Kenneth said, “Not yet, thanks.”

“Well, I’ll take this out of your way then,” the waitress scooped up Peggy’s plate, turning in such a way that Kenneth couldn’t see her face. Peggy opened her mouth to thank her, but Angie beat her to it, mouthing _“Gosh he’s_ boring _.”_

Peggy blinked, then gave her a small, wry smile in return.

“Let me know when you want your check,” Angie said, spinning to face both of them before shooting Peggy a wink and walking away.

_That was interesting._

As she watched Angie disappear into the kitchen the corner of her mouth crept upward in a bemused smirk, letting Kenneth’s continued ramblings fade into background noise.

“Peggy? Are you even listening to me?” A hand waving in front of her eyes snapped her back to the table, where Kenneth sat with an annoyed expression. For the second time she was interrupted before she could speak.

“Are you alright?” Kenneth asked, “You only ate half your meal.”

“What--oh--” Peggy suddenly realized the incredible luck that the waitress had unwittingly dropped in her lap. “Actually, I don’t feel very well. I’m sorry, but I think it would be best if I leave now. Nothing against you of course.”

“Of course,” he said understandably, but Peggy’s trained ear picked up a suspicious edge to his words. He glanced from Peggy to the far corner, where the door to the kitchen stood.

“Can I ask you something personal?” he said.

No, not suspicious… Calculating. _What…?_

“Ask away.” _Calculating_ did not mix well with the image she had formed of Kenneth. The same man who babbled on about milk trucks wouldn’t possess _calculating_ in his repertoire of personality traits. Peggy’s SSR training kicked into high gear as she tried to reconcile that expression with the last thirty minutes of the date. He could be a spy. That was always a possibility. It had happened before; some pathetic sot looking to gain easy access to government secrets through the stupid, incompetent lady would try to chat her up at a bar (and leave with multiple hairline fractures and a mild concussion--if he was lucky).

Kenneth took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

_Is he really nervous, or is he faking it?_

“You’re not really interested in me, are you?” he said.

_Oh bloody hell._

_If he’s a spy, he’s the weirdest spy I’ve ever seen._

_Sorry Colleen, but I can’t do this ‘polite’ thing a second longer._

“No,” she admitted with the most sincere apologetic expression she could muster, “No I’m not. Sorry. I never really expected this to work. I just went along with it to make my friend happy.”

“Really? Thank god,” said Kenneth, “I only did this so my friend would stop thinking I’m gay.”

“Are you?” _If he’s not, and he gets offended, then he’ll leave. If he is, and he was being purposefully boring to turn me away, then this might be the best blind date I’ve ever been on._

“Are _you?_ ” he said with a cheeky grin, jerking his head to the left, where Angie the waitress was taking another table’s orders.

“I-- _what?”_ Peggy spluttered, “ _Her?_ I don’t think she--that’s ridiculous--I don’t-- _shut up!”_

His grin grew wider, and he waggled his eyebrows. Peggy was beginning to see the ‘electric personality’ that Colleen had talked about, and frankly it was annoying.

“You sure ‘bout that?” he whispered, “’Cause I’m usually a pretty good judge of these things, and she was definitely checking you out.”

“I—was she really?” Peggy twisted around again to get another look at her, before quickly turning away when Angie put away her pen and notebook and started walking towards Peggy’s table.

“Absolutely. Watch this,” Kenneth said.

“Wait, no, stop!” But it was too late. Kenneth had already motioned for Angie to come over.

“How may I help you folks?” she asked, while Peggy fought the urge to bury her head in her hands.

Kenneth launched immediately into speech, ignoring Peggy’s ‘ _don’t you even dare’_ glare. “Actually, my friend here was wondering if you knew anyplace to buy _violets_ ‘round here.”

Angie did a double-take. She stared at Peggy with an almost unreadable expression in her wide eyes: shock, certainly, and disbelief. And maybe… hope? Laughter?

Or perhaps Peggy was reading too much into things. After all, Peggy may know the code, but nothing guaranteed that this woman did as well.

Not that Peggy cared or anything.

Then Angie’s eyes lit up and— _oh, fuck me—_ maybe she did care.

“Violets, hmm?” Angie grinned, “Yeah, I might know where to getcha those. Could cost you though.” From Kenneth’s wide, shit-eating smirk, the flirty undertones to her voice weren’t just in Peggy’s imagination.

Without thinking, Peggy smiled and opened her mouth, but at the last moment, she faltered. All of her objections to going on this blind date came swirling through her head again, and—again, without thinking—she slammed on the brakes.

_I’m not ready for this._

_It’s too soon._

_I can’t…_

Even thinking about relationships still felt like a betrayal of Steve’s memory, and she wondered if any amount of time could ever let that feeling fade.

_He’d want you to be happy._

Peggy squared her shoulders, looked Angie straight in the eye, and said, “Well, I’d have to know what that cost may be first.”

“Oh, nothin’ much,” Angie said, deliberately nonchalant, “Just a coffee maybe. See where it goes from there.”

“ _And_ that’s my cue to leave,” Kenneth interrupted, startling both women when he stood up. Peggy had to admit, she’d nearly forgotten he was there for a moment. “You gals have fun.” With a wink and a wave, he turned to leave, but Peggy caught him by the sleeve before he could take more than two steps..

“ _Thank you,”_ she mouthed, smiling.

“ _You’d better tell me all about it later,”_ he whispered back, matching her grin. As he walked away, Peggy turned back to Angie.

“So, how about that coffee, English?”

“I think I’d like that.”


End file.
